St. Landry democrat., 1887-12-03
A TRUE STORY.
The Life History of a Quartet OF steam
er's Passengers.
HOWARD.
JCOpyrtghdet.. lSSI.l

from New York carried among her pas
sengers John Wilson, Mary, his wife,
Detective John Crosby, of the New York
force, and his wife. quartet about whom
for the past twenty years astrange prov
idence has hovered, directing them into
channels as odd and unusual as they
were exciting and dramatic.
John Wilson lived in Milwaukee twenty
wears ago, and had done so for ten years
prior to that. His father was wealthy
manufacturer in Scotland and brought up
his son as his successor in business. Among
the factory hands was Jennie Martin, a
beautiful, intelligent, active, hearty,
buxom lass.
She and John were sweethearts.
Old Mr. Wilson, hard as flint, set as
rock, determined as the DEGREES them
selves, knew nothing of it.
On his sons twenty-tirst birthday, he
made grand display in the village, and
invited all his factory hands and their
families to greet their new master, his
son, who on that day was to be made
full partner in the establishment. Over
flowing with gratitude, John took his
father by the hand, and after thanking
him from the bottom of his heart for his
generosity, turned him a little one side,
and pointing to Jennie, whose face was
absolutely radiant with Joy at the tri-
umphant on-going of her sweetheart,
said, "And there, father, is girl who
will make you as loving a daughter as l
have made faitt full SON."
Had John slapped his father in
the face he could have caused no
greater establishment, kindled no keener
anger.
In tone of thunder he demanded the
meaning of what he was told, and when
his mind grasped the entirety of the
situation, in spite of his sons manly atti-
tude, and Notwithstanding the fearful
pleadings of his own much-loved wife,
he lowered with indignation to his
utmost height and with whitening scorn
gave his son twenty-four hours in which
to repent and be forgiven, or to take his
trans and seek his fortune in the wilder
aess before him.
John had saved two hundred pounds,
about thousand dollars in our money,
and knowing somewhat of the opportu-
mites afforded men of enterprise in the
Western portion of the United States,
consulted long and earnestly with his
mother, whose heart pleaded for her SON,
even though her words argued for her
husbands will. Jennie, poor child, was
plunged at once from the apex of hu-
man Joy to the very depths of gloomy ap-
prehension. Her advice was loaded down
with tears, her sentences were never
finished. To give up her sweetheart
would be to blig ght her life. To hold him
to his word would be to demolish the
structure of his fortune.
The old man was obdurate.
o. He would hear nothing. "Tell your
SON." he said to his wife, ~ bide the
time gave him. Let him repent and be
forgiven or let him leave my side for
ever"
Well, to briefly put it, John wrote
his father q quietly manly pro-
test against parental interference. avowed
his love, his willingness to obey in every
thing save this, took Jennie by the hand
and in the presence of his brother alone,
o crippled lad of eighteen, he pledged
his troth TO Jennie, whose parents had
long since passed beyond the flood, and
taking her in the little stage went the
following dav with all his worldly effects
to the big town beyond, where he drew
his money, bought his tickets, was mar
Fied and started for the deep blue
sea whose restless bosom's undulations
were sooner or later to land him on
shore where brains and industry, he be-
lieved, would tell in favor of him, or any
ether honest, earnest man.
The story of the ensuing twenty years
can be told in a sentence.
John Wilson prospered. His wife did
not. Chills and fever reduced her to
mere nothing. The cares of maternity
bore heavily upon her. The death, sud-
den, unexpected and horrible, of two
little ones who lived just long enough in
years to become part and parcel OF ma
ture that was always gentle and loving,
undermined her will power and broke
sadly, with unbeatable encroachments,
upon heart already bowed with weight
of woe, because she knew and felt that,
quiet as her husband was, he pined for
his father and longed for a sight of the
face of the mother who bore him, and
who had been to him sister, a teacher,
O friend, q companion through the first
twenty-one years of his existence.
Wilson prospered and became very
rich man.
Correspondence with friends at home
had long since ceased.
Word of his mothers death was now
ten years old, but not sign had ever
been made by his father, and so far as he
knew the gulf between them was forever
impossible. He was kind and thoughtful
in his bluff, brusque way, but like many
men of business activities he was not
quick to see what a physician could
have told him, that the only possi-
ble help for his wife was not a
change Of scene alone, but q revisitation
of her childhood's home. He did all
he could according to his structure,
mental, moral and physical. He built q
beautiful home. He provided every
creature comfort, but the sad fact re-
manned that while he grew sturdy, she
fell rapidly away. Their only child was
named after himself-John Wilson
and at the time of which write he was
bright 6ve-year-old boy, full Of pranks,
jolly, happy, pleasant-faced, healthy and
the very apple of the eye of his father
and of his proud and contented mother,
who could never bear him from her sight
moment, the concrete, as it seemed to
her, of all she had lost come back and
held to her loving heart.
A letter!
A letter from home!